#vilemonkey

Asriel could be so infuriating sometimes. Always getting under her skin, pushing her, challenging her. Yet their very heated battles would almost always lead to the most tantalizing and then passionate encounters in bed. Everything was a power struggle between, their intimate proclivities no different. But wow, was it satisfying. He satisfied her in a way that no man, especially not her husband, ever could. Sometimes it didn’t even feel real. 

So matters with her marriage and affair were currently complicated. She hadn’t known Asriel for very long, and yet it was almost like they had known each other for so much longer. They understood the way the other ticked, they practically had instincts of what the other wanted. They also knew the best ways to anger each other. Marisa loved, yet hated him. Some days she utterly loathed him. Then others, all she craved was him. The whole thing brought her bliss and sickness at once. What she hated most was the weakness. There were times, however small, where she felt utterly pathetic in her desire for Asriel. 

Tonight was another party of her husband’s, one that typically Marisa would be mingling in. Admittedly, she enjoyed the attention. However, Asriel wasn’t there even though he said that he would be. He had teased her with murmurings of the things he was going to do with her tonight, all of the wicked details divulged in the most vulgar of manners. Another one of their games they played to toy with each other. Marisa would often lie to him, make empty promises, and this was likely revenge for one of those times. Yet part of her was glad he didn’t show up. It was all too frustrating and confusing and she hated how Asriel sometimes made her feel like some little schoolgirl. 

She walked outside into the cold air, her daemon moving in perfect synchronization with her. The monkey climbed up her arm and then rested on her shoulder, his golden fur curling around her neck. She hadn’t bothered to put on a coat before stepping into the garden; she felt no urge to Marisa would be going back inside soon enough and she saw no need to wear a coat just to have a drink on her own for a few moments. She had grabbed a flask of whiskey from Edward’s liquor cabinet on her way out, which she brought up to her lips to sip from. She brought it away with an escaped sigh.

» send me ↕ + your muse’s height | accepting

[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand

    Lyra had listened to the explanations, the stories, and still, she avoided connecting with her mother. She was feeling too deeply, allowing fears to sink in.

    For a girl who had always thrown herself into danger without a second thought, there were few people who could scare her. Mrs. Coulter was one. As a twelve-year-old girl, she had been afraid of her mother’s intentions. Afraid of capture and of her horrible intercision machine. Now, six years later, her fears ran deeper; complex and suffocating. If she reached out, would she only lose her again? Would accepting her back into her life mean she was betraying all the people she had hurt? Could she forgive herself for wanting to? There was already so much she couldn’t forgive, what was one more?

    Through her confliction; a fierce battle she had disguised for days through a mask of indifference and countless books and studies, came the same longing she never stopped feeling. She remembered Iorek’s encouragement and repeated it silently. It had always helped in those moments where she faltered, the rare times where bubbling emotions forced her to look before leaping. When I am frightened, I shall master my fear.

    They walked now, side by side. Alone. Silent, except for the heavy breeze sweeping through the trees.

    Without looking, not even an inch, Lyra felt for her mother’s hand and grasped it in her own. It was all she would allow. All she could bear so soon, and she held on tightly.

“What? It’s true. That man’s face does look like it caught on fire and someone tried putting it out with a hammer.”

“Kidnapping and killing tends to do that.” Lyra scoffed. “You know, yesterday I met an adult who wanted to help me. But I told them no.Told ‘em to stay away from me. D’you know why? Because everyone who helps me gets hurt because of you. And then it’s because of me by default. And I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

“I’ll add that to my guidebook of how to be a manipulative snake.”